


The scientific method, with annotations by Stiles Stilinski

by imanotaku



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I promise), (but not explicit), A lot of kissing, AH YES, Gratuitous Smut, Kissing, M/M, Polyamory, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanotaku/pseuds/imanotaku
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of five boyfriends, must do a scientific experiment about kissing.Or: Stiles has five boyfriends and likes kissing.
Relationships: Alan Deaton/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Deucalion/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Rafael McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 236





	The scientific method, with annotations by Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this wholesome show. I hope you like it. I just want to clarify that Stiles and the gang are in a vee-type poly relationship- meaning Stiles is the center and dates the other and the others only date Stiles.  
> Also, this is my first time writing a poly relationship, so apologies if I make mistakes, I mean no harm.  
> And Stiles is in his mid-twenties.

Having five boyfriends is different. This means he has a lot of dates and a lot of late nights. It’s during one of those late nights when Chris snored slightly against his aching back that it hits Stiles.

Five boyfriends, some supernatural, some not, different ages, different backgrounds…

The perfect universe for a scientific experience.

But what experience? What did they all have in common that could be measured? Size? That was a touchy subject, and Stiles already knew the answer. Besides, length or girth? Two different charts form in his mind, as Stiles stares at Argent’s ceiling.

Length Girth

  1. Peter 1. Rafael
  2. Deaton 2. Deaton
  3. Chris* 3. Deucalion
  4. Deucalion 4. Chris
  5. Rafael 5. Peter



*- Stiles once made a ‘is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?’ joke. He slept on the couch that night.

Stiles isn’t complaining. Definitely not. For someone who was a raging virgin in their teens, he’s doing very well, thank you.

So, not size. Besides that, sex wasn’t a very objective subject. Cum tastes the same, with only slight variations (thank god for Peter and his love for anything organic). Speed isn’t fair for the non-werewolves.

What about kissing?

It’s not an accurate topic of measure, because everyone’s different, but how different? Could Stiles make a detailed report? He likes to think he could.

When Stiles smiles and drifts off, a new experiment starts.

Subject #1: Chris Argent, 50, hunter/firearms dealer

The next morning, when the sun starts to rise behind the Argent’s mansion and Beacon Hills starts to wake up, Stiles turns on the coffee machine and puts on some Beyoncé. He needs some courage. And it’s way too early for whiskey, so Sasha Fierce it is.

Three eggs go into a frying pan. Dressed in only boxers and with the best bed hair, Stiles lip-syncs.

He mixes the eggs before pouring a cup of joe. No sugar, no milk. Just like Chris likes it. The way to a men’s heart is through his stomach. Stiles hopes it’s the same for his lips.

He keeps dancing and singing until a pair of strong arms wraps around his waist. A shiver runs down his spine. Chris rests his head in his shoulder as he finishes cooking the eggs.

“I missed you.” Chris’s voice is slow and rough. Oh, that does things to him.

Who knew Scott’s former nightmare was clingy in the mornings? It’s adorable. A guy with a reputation of owning every weapon in existence is worse than glue when he wakes up. Of course, a slander of this kind will always be denied. Even if it’s true.

Stiles remembers a time when Chris shoved him into a wall. At that moment, even with his witty comebacks, he was shitting himself. Today, the same man was dropping little kisses on his shoulder as he plates the eggs.

He turns around, lacing his arms around Chris’ shoulders. Stiles looks into those baby blue eyes, where love and care whisper, and melts.

“Will you take scrambled eggs as an apology?”

Chris hmms in thought. Then, a hand cups Stile’s face and brings him into a kiss. Slow and soft. There’s no worries, no violence, no death. It’s just them, lit by the sun, with music in the background and eggs cooling on the table. It’s nothing short than perfect. When they split, their foreheads touch, enjoying the closeness. They kiss once, twice, and once again, before Stiles tells him breakfast will get cold.

On his way to work, Stiles makes a mental note:

  * Chris is a touchy kisser. He prefers his cheeks.
  * His lips could use some chapstick, but he’s soft and gentle™ (Note: again, against his whole ‘I will kill you if you piss me off’ vibe)
  * Also, beard burn. It’s the best.



Subject #2: Alan Deaton, 51, Veterinarian/Supernatural Expert/Everything else

Deaton is the second because Stiles’ needs his help. They agree to meet that night, at Deaton’s place. First, because his library is huge (wink wink) and second, because, in this whole thing, Stiles’ apartment is neutral ground. That ruling was created when Peter and Rafael almost killed each other and broke Stiles’ Xbox. He didn’t speak with either for a week. They paid 50/50 for a new one.

So, Stiles and Deaton are surrounded by old bestiaries, trying to find a cure for Stiles’ client’s curse. Apparently, you can turn a penis green. (Stiles made sure to write that down) Which made for a very entertaining first consultation. ‘My dick’s gonna fall off’ was the funniest shit he ever heard.

As Deaton skims a book looking for what might possibly do that, Stiles starts phase 2 of his experiment. He reaches for a book, accidentally brushing shoulders with the good doctor. Deaton eyes him for a second, receiving a wink in return.

They keep investigating, with Stiles’ rambling about a case he had the previous week when he asks for a book near Deaton. He gets it and, as a thank you, he pecks him in the cheek. Light and breezy.

He should be concerned for the wellbeing of his client, but from what he read, it wasn’t gonna fall off, and it taught him the very important lesson of thinking with the upstairs head.

The teasing keeps going- Stiles mouths a pen in a very unhygienic and inappropriate fashion, he bends down to pick a piece of paper he totally didn’t drop on purpose, he stretches and moans. Loud. But Deaton’s unaffected.

Was he losing his touch? (Did he have the touch in the first place, or was it just luck that five guys fought for him?)

In the middle of his on-the-nose flirtations, Stiles actually figures it out. It’s an old mythology spell, in the name of a Mother Goddess to protect the summoner from an evil spirit. That was haunting her DMs. Good for her.

And that’s when the experiment backfires.

The moment Stiles finishes pacing back and forward explaining his theory, Deaton’s all over Stiles. He guides them to the table, while his tongue is down Stiles’ throat.

See, Stiles only needs a couple of minutes of smooching to get what he wants. Turns out, moaning and deepthroating stationery hadn’t made Deaton’s blood boil, it’s his brain. He’s 100% on board.

It takes a while to set himself back on track. Deaton knows how to break him apart- a kiss here, a bite there and Stiles unravels. Oh, how he unravels. Back arching, eyes rolled back, moans and gasps and ‘oh God, Deaton, yes, there, oh god’.

In the afterglow, tucked into Deaton’s chest, breathing uneven, Stiles makes his notes:

  * Deaton’s has a scientific approach to kissing
  * Loves to bite behind his ear (Stiles loves it too)
  * Very good at it (Note: How did he get so good? A question for the philosophers)
  * 10/10 would do again



Subject number #3: Rafael McCall, 47, FBI agent

Two days later, Stiles is once again against a rock and a hard place. But this time, it’s a wall. And a very horny FBI agent. It just took a hello and suddenly he had a mouthful of Rafael McCall.

Note number 1- very enthusiastic.

Rafael kisses like a dying man hangs onto life. Bites and licks until Stiles' mind blanks. Always wants more, more, more. Stiles can’t do anything but moan and mewl against this attack. Hands search his body, grab his waist, run through his hair, squeeze his ass. Strong enough to leave marks.

When his lips are bruised and abused, Rafael devours. Teeth and tongue. No inch in his skin goes unmarked. Stiles’ knees go week. Rafael is at his neck, licking and sucking and biting. Everyone would know he’s taken.

In that aspect, he’s more wolf than human.

Stiles’ begs with charming need, big eyes pleading sweetly, “More, Rafa...”

Rafael acts like a wild beast. Growls, tears his clothes and gropes his ass. For a split second, Stiles remembers that this man, the one who’s so desperately kissing him, is his best friend’s dad. But, when Rafael takes his mouth again, that thought leaves as soon as it comes.

They end up doing against that wall, on the kitchen table, and on the couch. For a man in his late forties, Special Agent McCall has a great refractory period. And, by the smug smirk on his face, he knew it.

With his best friend’s dad naked next to him, Stiles fills his mental report:

  * Enthusiastic
  * Hungry and angry
  * Not violent tho
  * A biter (one out of three)



Subject #3: Deucalion, 47, Alpha of Alphas/Apex of apex predators/Death, Destroyer of worlds/Demon Wolf

Deucalion’s a gentleman. A homicidal, power-hungry gentleman. Luckily for Stiles, that gentleman also really loved him.

So, because Wednesday nights mean dinner at Deuc’s (after a lot of talking and fighting that made Stiles feel like a rent boy), they’re having a candlelit meal to the sound of Tchaikovsky. It’s a world-famous recipe – Mama Stilinski’s stuffed cabbage rolls, also known as Golabki.

Stiles talks a mile a minute between bites. Starts off with a book he read, then that time he made a fae friend (but fuck pixies), and how weird is it that fae are so small? Deucalion nods and stays quiet; lets Stiles tell him everything and then some. If someone was watching them, they’d notice the stupidly fond look on his face.

After dinner, they retire to the couch. Music plays softly. Even without sight, Deuc still looks at him like he’s Christ incarnate. A warms spreads through Stiles, turning his cheeks red. Despite all of this, he’s still not used to the attention.

Curious hands start mapping his face. From his hair to his nose to his lips. Deucalion traces the shape of his lips. It makes Stiles shiver. His touch is so gentle, Stiles can do nothing but close his eyes.

“Beautiful,” He whispers as he slowly brings them together.

The kiss is as soft as Deucalion’s touch. It’s a slow back and forward. Then, Stiles’ hands cup his face and, with another kiss, he’s straddling Deucalion. With a little bite, Deucalion’s tongue enters his mouth. He moans, holding him tighter.

The song changes, but no one’s the wiser.

Stiles moves his hips. It’s a lazy grind, enough to make Deucalion groan. Another kiss, then another. He can’t get enough. Deucalion’s hands run down his back, resting at his hips. Stiles draws a shaky breath, and Deucalion starts trailing kisses down his neck. He runs his fingers through blond hair. It’s so soft.

Stiles bares his neck. Deucalion groans before biting. He has two bite marks framing his neck, from the demon alpha and alpha Hale. Stiles can’t help the moan that leaves his lips. It’s dirty and way too loud, but, God, it just feels so good.

From that point, things escalate quickly. Stiles doesn’t even realize when his shirt disappears, but he’s too far gone to notice. Because Deucalion licks and licks and licks and Stiles can’t do anything but scream and hold on for dear life. It makes Deuc forever smug.

They end up doing it slow and sweet, all night long.

Class notes:

  * A bitter (two out of three)
  * Smooth af
  * Tongue like a gecko
  * Gentle and sweet (Note: not really what’s expected from a guy with the title ‘demon alpha’)



Subject #4: Peter Hale, 43, Ex-Rice Krispy Treat/Alpha Hale/Not a very good Uncle

The pack meeting finished about ten minutes before, dissolving into a session of pack cuddles. Stiles is currently trapped in a bear hug, in the arms of none other than Alpha Hale. Peter holds on tight, almost enough to bruise, and he entertains himself with nibbling at his mating mark.

“So, there I was,” Stiles’ in the middle of telling the green dick story, “And I had no idea what to do. I actually thought it was going to fall off.”

Then, a tongue traces his birthmarks. Stiles stops speaking and shivers. Peter does it again. This time, with a smirk on his face. If Stiles was stupid, he’d think it was all coincidence.

But Stiles isn’t stupid.

He’s a scientist on a mission. He turns slightly, baring his neck, and gives Peter a raised eyebrow. The man replies with his own before he starts nosing his neck.

Stiles pulls away, entertained, “I was talking.”

“About something interesting, I’m sure.”

“Not more interesting than my neck.”

Peter leans forward, and whispers in his ear, voice low, “Nothing’s more interesting than your neck, sweetheart.”

Stiles shivers again. This is playing dirty. Especially when his neck is licked once more. Oh, Stiles can play dirty. Now, in any circumstance (this one included), it’s never a good idea to provoke an ex-lunatic with the capability of breaking your neck with his pinky finger.

But it’s for science.

“So, me and Deaton-” Peter’s hold tightens around him. Stiles doesn’t try to hide his smirk, “We spent all night researching-”

That’s it. He could sense it wasn’t a lie. They researched... until they didn't. Peter growls, deep in his chest. He grabs Stiles and hoists him up.

With a cutting smile, he drags him out of the puppy pile, “This was lovely, but we have to go.”

Stiles flails, waving and shouting goodbyes until Peter shoves him against the wall. What’s with people and shoving him into things?

There’s a dangerous glow to Peter’s eyes. His fangs are out. Stiles tries to contain his excitement. They’re close, breathing each other, and Stiles gets an overwhelming need to kiss, kiss, _kiss_.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Stiles did an innocent shrug, saying, am I?, “I was just telling them my interesting story.”

Peter growls, right next to his ear. He can feel the fangs against his ear, “You broke the rule.”

Yep, he did. The don’t ask, don’t tell rule, but less homophobic- the rule that states that there will be no mention of the others. This rule was also created after a particularly violent dick-measuring contest between Chris and, of course, Peter. At least they didn’t break anything Stiles owned.

Stiles nods and whispers, “What are you going to do about it?”

Peter chuckles before clashing their mouths together. His fangs bite into Stiles’ lips, making Stiles gasp, while claws roam his body, settling on his hips. Peter bites, Stiles moans. Peter’s claws dig into the soft skin, Stiles' hips buck. Peter pulls back, Stiles follows him.

“Does he make you this hard?” Peter’s voice is rough and covered in mischief. His fingers lightly trace Stiles’ tented pants, and he takes a shaky breath. “Tell me what you want.”

Stiles looks into bright red eyes, “This,” He cups Peter’s erection through his pants and smiles.

Maybe having sex with a pack of super-hearing werewolves next door isn’t a good idea, but, if they notice Stiles’ limp when he walks out, no one says a thing.

Sitting in his car, still coming down from the high, Stiles touches his lips. They’re still raw from the fangs, and so is his neck.

Results:

  * Biggest biter out of the three
  * Likes to lick his birthmarks
  * Possessive
  * Always has a smirk on his face (Note: Predictable)



The experiment was a success, Stiles concludes, laying alone in his bed. There were no winners, except for himself. His nerves are buzzing, and he can still feel every kiss, every lick and every bite coloring his body. Hiding them will be a pain, but he loves them all the same. Before drifting off, Stiles thinks-

Having five boyfriends is awesome.


End file.
